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To Resist both Wind and Tide	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4377 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do nto own Lord of the Rings and no money is made from this story, just fro fun.Characters and settings created by JRR Tolkien.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter Six: Truthful Mysteries

Warmth radiated through his body in thrilling, enveloping waves, surges of erotic heat that made his nerves tingle and set every sensitive site on his body singing. Each of these delightful ripples rolled through him gently, the pleasure of the sinuous swells building, slowly rising and gathering into the curling undulations of a rushing tide, collecting in bright, tight nodes of pulsing flesh, cresting and breaking over him at last only to start anew. He could not anticipate where the next touch would fall, what faint wisp of breath or languid caress might initiate the glorious pulse of excitation. He did not care to know; it was part of the exhilaration not to know. This, he understood innately, was solely for him, for his benefit and enjoyment, and he relished both the somatic tremors and the sense of safety, of being free to relax into it and just let it carry him adrift, floating, on this sea of endless delight until the tide peaked and roared through him in a mad froth of violent bliss.

Fingertips traipsing down his chest brushed across a nipple, delicately, the touch so faint he might be made of fragile hoar frost, but the contact sent a bolt of pleasure racing through his nerves as potent and piercing as an arrow.

He shivered, groaned, longed for the same again.
His eyes were closed so he could not see the agent of this exquisite anguish, but that served to enhance the feeling to a level of wrenching anticipation he had not imagined possible. Such gifted, clever fingers explored him, leaving no mound or crevice unmapped, alternately tantalising with tenderness by teasingly tripping over the tip of his penis or stroking the underside of his tight scrotum where the balls were gathered up close against his root. Quick as thinking the touch retreated to travel over his belly, invade his naval, brush the hair on his chest backward.

He sighed, moaned, wriggled, and desperately hoped his tormenter would begin a more concerted effort to know him more thoroughly in those intimate areas most responsive to such stimulation. His cock was so hard the glans throbbed and he could feel his juices slithering out through the slit, gasped suddenly when a thumb swiped the droplet away. His whole body rocked as his cock reared up, seeking the source of the stimulus.

"Mmmmmmmm."

The long drawn sound was finished off by the distinctive noise of fingers being pulled out of wet lips and Aragorn at last pried his eyes open. They immediately went wide in surprised delight and a grin overtook his features. There was the naked Wood Elf poised on his knees beside him, smiling faintly as he gazed at the Man's engorged penis. Before Aragorn could find presence of mind to speak, the fair ellon swooped down and settled those delectable lips round the head of his shaft and sucked.

"Elbereth!" Aragorn shouted and pivoted his hips to engage more of the hot confinement. Golden hair rained down and trailed over his thighs and belly as Legolas sank lower then rose, swallowed and lapped him, bobbed up and down, eagerly devouring his aroused cock. With a trembling hand he reached for the flaxen tresses and brought himself half-sitting, balancing on an elbow as he dug his fingers into the wild mane.

"Oh, yes!" he grunted round the words, aching to achieve orgasm and watch this delectable creature swallow his seed. Aragorn thrust up hard into the exquisite suction. As he dropped back to the ground, a soft, electric hum surrounded his penis as the Wood Elf uttered some subdued vocalisation against the protrusion of potent flesh in his mouth. "Valar!" Aragorn gripped the hank of hair and pulled. Legolas' head rose up and those magical fingers trailed over the Man's balls, pausing to squeeze a bit. Aragorn shouted an incoherent roar of pleasure and exploded into ecstasy. It was over too soon and he felt himself drifting away into relaxed, sated slumber, a smile upon his lips and his fingers still clutching the golden strands.

He awoke slowly, so refreshed and filled with goodwill he felt himself smiling for the sheer joy of being alive and feeling so wonderful. Then he recalled why and almost laughed. Seldom had he had such a fulfilling fantasy and he relished the memory of the dream, so vivid and exciting he doubted he would ever forget it. A small blot appeared on his sunny horizon over the reason for Legolas' appearance in the phantasm, but he easily dismissed it by recalling just how long it had been since he'd had an elven lover. The Wood Elf was beautiful and Aragorn was feeling ruttish; that was reason enough.

Would that it had been real.

He yawned, stretching his entire body in luxuriant laziness, and peered out of slitted eyes at the subject of the erotic phantasm crouched nearby on the floor of the tent. Aragorn smiled and inhaled a deep, satisfied breath, releasing it with a muted moan of contentment which made the ellon look up. Legolas, however, was not smiling.

"Finally you wake," he groused. "I would think you were the injured one by the amount of rest you took."

"I was injured; have you forgotten?" answered Aragorn irritably, all his fiery images vanishing. He sat up, suddenly he worried if he had actually come, though he had not experienced a wet dream since adolescence, and focused on his personal condition. Nothing uncomfortably damp and sticky assailed his nether regions and that at least was reassuring in light of Legolas' dismal attitude. A noisy tearing sound drew his attention to what the elf was doing.

"No, how could I forget when it was giving you my light that caused all the troubles thereafter," Legolas complained, shaking his head dourly as he returned attention to the fabric in his hands. It was the blanket Selwyn had given them and Legolas was tearing it to pieces.

"Why are you doing that?" demanded Aragorn, finding this to be pointless destruction of a useful commodity. "I am human and feel the cold at night, Legolas. You are destroying the only covering we have."

"I am the one forced to nakedness, again because of you, and this is the only covering I have. That shirt you promised me, do you recall where it is, Kalrô?"

Now that the point was being made, Aragorn did indeed recall: it was lying in the heap made of all his and Legolas' possessions when the Rohirrim searched his pack. At least I am still Kalrô He sighed again. "Yes, you are right; I left it behind in Fangorn with everything else. I am the thoughtless one, mellon, and apologise for promising something I could not produce." He offered a sheepish smile and hoped it would ease the tense mood collecting in the tent. It didn't.

"You have no idea how embarrassing this is," seethed Legolas, giving the blanket a particularly forceful yank. It tore with a loud rending sound, underscoring his displeasure perfectly. "Naked as a new-born babe for all to see! That horse-slaver was in here running his mouth and letting his eyes roam freely, sword in hand in case I might try to 'enchant' him, fussing over how deeply you slept. Sick as I was, I made sure you had a full, recovering rest and he was accusing me of foul play! I wish I had Mithrandir's powers; I would indeed enchant that man right into a rock forever more!"

"Do you mean Selwyn?" Aragorn was shocked by the depth to which this statement made him livid with outrage on his friend's behalf. "What did he say? He didn't try to touch you, did he?"

The tone of his words made Legolas relinquish some of his bellicose mood; a vague expression of warmth softened his features as he shook his head. "No, he remained far from me, thrice presenting that strange motion of his right hand which he believes will protect him from magic spells. It would not help him at all in the face of real sorcery."

"Nay, I am sure you're right. What did he say to you?" Aragorn was only moderately mollified.

"The same ignorant remarks you heard earlier, I would guess," Legolas shrugged. "It was his staring that was inexcusable. He knew I had no means to cover myself without taking the blanket away from you. An honourable person would have left the tent when I asked him to."

"You told him to leave and he refused?" Now Aragorn was beginning to steam, picturing the Sheriff leering at Legolas.

"I ordered him to get out and he just stood there, eyes wandering where he wished, making that absurd warding gesture. Then I recalled he cannot speak or understand Sindarin so I said it in Westron. Vile horse-slaver! Accused me of uttering a spell and demanded to know what it would do to him." Legolas glanced at Aragorn and felt his heart leap; the Man was ready to do murder! Aragorn jumped to his feet and paced around the small space.

"Inexcusable!" he fumed. "He is Sheriff of the East Wold and should have better manners."

"Sheriff of the East Wold," Legolas snorted sarcastically. "He is a leader of horse-slavers; what kind of courtesy can he possess?"

"Perhaps. Why do you call them horse-slavers? The Rohirrim are known for their love of all equines and treat them as family rather than livestock," Aragorn said, anxious about the pending problem of the Wood Elf's trial all the more for Selwyn's loutish behaviour.

"It is not horses they enslave, but they use the horses to lure their victims," announced the sylvan archer. "These are not Men like you, Kalrô. They may place high value on their horses, but other beings, specifically Wood Elves, they view as prey to hunt and capture and sell to Dol Guldur for their own ends."

"What? Rude and uncouth they may be, but I have heard of no such practices among these horsemen, Legolas, and I would have heard."

"Really? I don't recall ever seeing you around Greenwood before," snapped Legolas, his fury back in full and then some. "Have you lived here among these folk? I doubt that for you would have had a horse that would not desert you when you came after the Orcs in the Brown Lands. No, you have lived far from here and recall what you knew of these people when last you treated with them. We, too, once thought well of the Rohirrim, or at least felt they were harmless. I assure you, we will never be fooled thus again."

This bitter speech poured forth as Legolas stood up and used a strip of the blanket to make a breech clout which he tied about his slender hips with another strip of the woollen material so that a short apron fell over his lower half. It came to mid-thigh and covered only his buttocks and pelvic region, with his legs bare all the way up to his waist, but at least he was no longer completely exposed. The rest of the blanket was intact, though shortened, and he balled it up, throwing it at the Man with rather more force than necessary.

Aragorn caught it before it hit him full in the face and folded it neatly, noticing that Legolas had made sure to remove as small a piece of cloth as possible, so to ensure adequate cover remained for the chilly nights. The Man's features screwed up in chagrin; he'd accused Legolas of selfishness with virtually the first words out of his mouth upon waking. Why had he not greeted the ellon correctly and asked after his health? He glanced at the lean figure, eyeing the bandage and wanting to examine the damage under it, but Legolas was just then ducking through the flap.

"Wait!" Aragorn hurried after, concerned about what might happen if Legolas was stopped by the Rohirrim, but found the elf waiting for him just outside, cooing at Tuilelindô and stroking her soft nose. Now that he had thought to observe Legolas, he was amazed by the dramatic improvement. The bandaging was still in place, clean and spotless, and the archer did not appear to be suffering pain or the exhaustion of the previous day. Well, he 'healed by dawn' after all; it just took two more dawns than he thought. Still, it would be prudent to inspect the wound before letting his friend become too active. Legolas turned to him with a smile and he returned it warmly.

"Forgive me for saying you would rob me of the blanket's warmth, mellon. I swear, my own mother would not know me from this discourteous demeanour." Aragorn was pleasantly surprised to see a soft pink glow suffuse the ellon's ears and cheeks as another half-shouldered shrug introduced a beaming smile.

"Ú-boe pedich," (No need to say it.) he murmured and returned his attention self-consciously to the mare as Aragorn's gaze raked him from crown to soles. He could not deny that this was a welcomed inspection, unlike the other man's curiosity.

"You are much improved today," Aragorn ventured, "but I would like to take a look at the injury to make sure all is well. Come back inside, Legolas."

"Aye, in a moment." Legolas inhaled and got his thoughts back on the needs of the moment. "I must relieve myself and find water. Then I could do with food and a chance to wash would be grand, though I doubt either of us will be accorded that privilege. Come along." Legolas moved out into the plain, the mare ambling along beside him.

Aragorn raised both brows high. "You want my help with that?"

"I need my body guard," Legolas called over his shoulder, flashing that amazing smile again. "Hurry, I have no wish to be stopped by these horse-slavers. And bring the sword."

He walked on with a loose, confident gait and the little flaps of the loin cloth swayed over his small, tight rump. Aragorn's brows nearly disappeared into his hair, and he could not tear his sight away.

The Man shook himself suddenly and cast a warning scowl about the camp to see who else was watching. Sure enough, there were several horsemen gaping, though warily, and Selwyn was striding toward the Wood Elf. Aragorn ducked back inside the tent and grabbed up his sword, trotting after Legolas to reach him before the Sheriff. He held up a hand to caution Selwyn and the Man slowed, scowling at the sylvan archer but unwilling to confront him, unable to hold the deadly glare Legolas trained upon him. He transferred his displeasure to Thorongil.

"You were not given leave to roam the camp at will," he began but the Wood Elf cut him off.

"I do not require your leave to attend to the demands of the body. I must hunt as well, unless you have food to share." Legolas paused and stood tall, arms folded before his bare chest, impressive even in his brief attire: wild and beautiful and dangerous. It was only now that Aragorn spotted the dagger tucked under the makeshift belt.

Selwyn felt the sudden impulse to apologise and offer a deep, obeisant bow so imperious and commanding was this elf. Immediately he stifled the urge and glowered darkly at Thorongil, flicking another swift glance at the sylvan that managed to take in the whole person. The Sheriff was aware of the inherent majesty all the First-born projected, but found this one's manner even more intimidating. Perhaps that was because he had met so few elves in person, only the single Galadhel contact on the borders of Lorien. He cleared his throat.
"I will see to it you both eat," he addressed Thorongil, " but under no circumstances are ether of you to leave the camp. We made an agreement."

"I made no agreement," sneered Legolas. Aragorn was beside him now and gave his ankle a slight kick. "Well, I didn't."

"Please, mellon, don't make things worse than they are," pleaded Aragorn before turning to Selwyn. "Thank you for the food and we will honour the agreement." He smiled as he took hold of Legolas' elbow and steered him away from the Sheriff, angling for a clump of scrubby shrubs where they could empty their bladders. Then he decided a little clarification was in order and halted, half-turning to eye Selwyn with baleful forboding. "We may be your prisoners, yet I would hope you would not engage in lubricious gawking and staring at Legolas' expense."

"What?" Selwyn turned quite red of face and his eyes flickered between the two. "I was not, at least not intentionally," he sputtered out, angry to be taken to task by his prisoners but unable to deny the truth either, which shamed him. He drew himself straight and raised his chin defiantly. "You, for that matter, might attempt to be more discreet during your healing 'treatments'."

Aragorn's eyes popped wide. "Exactly what are you insinuating?"

"Never mind him, Kalrô," laughed Legolas. "Perhaps he was dreaming in the night."

That gave the Man a severe jolt and he peered at the Wood Elf in confusion. Had it been real? Well, certainly he had dreamed, but had he been noisy enough to attract the notice of whatever guard had been stationed near the tent flap? Now it was his turn to flush with embarrassment, which made Legolas laugh harder.

"Serves you both right," he said with smug appreciation, "since I am the one forced to endure the mortification of going about naked, or nearly so."

"Elbereth," groaned Aragorn, aggravated at his friend's idea of humour. "I believed you, Legolas. My apologies, Selwyn." He started forward again and dragged the ellon along.

"Mine also," said the totally bewildered Sheriff. What was going on here? Was Thorongil a willing party or encorcelled?

"That was really unnecessary," hissed Aragorn. "I am trying to maintain good terms with Selwyn and bating me that way does not help matters."

"I was not. Do you name me a liar again? He did come in and inspect me most thoroughly; he admitted as much," said Legolas, but he was quite pleased with himself nonetheless.

"Aye, he did," answered Aragorn, "but what was all that about dreaming?"

"You were; have you no memory of doing so?" The ellon'svoice was positively packed with mirth. Aragorn did not appreciate it.

"I begin to wonder if that Sheriff was right about enchantment," he remarked, "since I have not been subject to such dreams in quite a large number of years. Hurry along, I've no wish for another confrontation with these men."

Legolas cut him a withering look but complied and they managed to deal with the minor problem of urination without further conflict, Tuilelindô acting as a barrier to screen them from inquisitive eyes. On their return trip, Legolas scanned the surroundings to get his bearings, but he had never been in this part of the world before. His nose told him only that the river was the closest source of water and that there was abundant game to be had. He sighed and ran his fingers through the mare's mane.

"We should try to get away from these Men," he whispered. "How far do you think we are from the Celebrant?"

"Too far to outrun them, as surely you must know," cautioned Aragorn.

"How would I know? I have never travelled here nor have I even visited Lorien."

"Never?" Aragorn was not really surprised; few were the sightings of Wood Elves out in the world. The forest folk preferred to remain beneath their trees. He wondered if he should venture a few questions and decided it was necessary in light of the trial to come. "Then how came you to be in the Brown Lands?"

"Mithrandir sent me there," came the unexpected answer and then nothing more.

The woodland warrior effectively ended the conversation by breaking into a soulful song that was filled with sweet melancholia as only an Elf could know or express. Though the words were in the archer's ancient speech, Aragorn was moved by the mingling of sorrow and joy, pride and wearing grief, hope and determination. While he could not translate the lyrics, he sensed it was an ancient tune whose story was now fresh upon the archer's heart. Aragorn could not help being worried about how he was going to manage this strong-willed but strangely vulnerable sylvan in the trial to come. Every eye was trained upon them, but they made it back to the tent without incident. The song completed, the Man decided to inspect the arrow wound.

Legolas knew without being asked and stood still as the bandage was unwrapped, arms out from his sides to make it easier for the Man, and watched Aragorn intently. "What are we to do about this…this primitive court, Kalrô? Can you not see that these men only want to find me guilty so to have an excuse for killing me? Or worse."

"I know your opinion of the Rohirrim is low, but Selwyn strikes me as a decent person overall. He will not give in to the irrational demands of his soldiers." Aragorn paused as the last bit of gauze, stiff and caked with the remnant of the dark ooze of the poison and pus, came away. The hole was sealed, a bright red stripe about a finger long and the width of two fingers marking its deadly location. He was glad to see the clean, smooth skin and had no doubt the zone would fade to match the rest of Legolas' body, leaving no scar. Yet he will never forget. Aragorn suddenly wondered how old Legolas might be and how many injuries like this he'd endured.

"Selwyn is one of them; he will not take my part even if he believes my words," Legolas contradicted. He shivered as Aragorn's fingers touched the new flesh and blushed a little when this made him look up sharply.

"Is there pain when I press there?" he asked.

"Nay," Legolas answered and found he could not explain that Kalrô's touch was pleasurable. The way he'd reacted to that one caress made him refrain and wonder anew about Noldorin customs and those of Men as well. Was that hesitation because he was male or because he was a Wood Elf, or both?

"Good. It seems completely renewed; truly wondrous. Never have I seen anyone defeat so virulent a poison, especially under such adverse conditions."

"Wood Elf." Legolas shrugged but his eyes were shining proudly. Then he stiffened and moved further into the tent. "Here he comes with the food. Probably some indigestible stew made from clippings off the horses' hooves."

The description simultaneously made Aragorn want to laugh and gag, but he refrained as the flap was lifted and a guard peered in just before Selwyn came though the opening. The Sheriff was bearing a little bundle wadded up in his hands and thrust this at Thorongil, cutting a wary frown at the elf and then away. Over his shoulder a water skin was slung and he handed this off once the food was transferred safely.

"It is the same that we eat ourselves," he said defensively, eyes again on the sylvan. "I will leave you to it and return later. He is well?" This he asked with no small astonishment as he caught sight of the garish crimson spot where a festering gash had been the day before.

"Aye, elven folk heal much more quickly than Men," explained Aragorn.

"That much is known to us," chided Selwyn, "but that was a mortal wound if ever I saw one. Was the lung not afflicted? Was there not virulent poison on the arrow?"

"Obviously you know nothing of my people," intoned Legolas as he unwrapped the meal. Inside he found hard cheese, some way-bread, and a strip of some sort of dried meat that smelled strongly of garlic. His nose wrinkled in distaste. "Ugh. Troll food," he muttered and sighed, taking the cheese and handing the rest over to Aragorn. He retreated to the farthest wall and sat with his back to the humans. "We are the strongest of the First-born."

"Legolas speaks the truth," Aragorn said brightly, hoping to appease both belligerent beings in the tent, but Selwyn was scowling vilely.

"I am sure he does," the Sheriff scoffed, but hastily retreated when the Elf began to rise. A chorus of ringing laughter followed him out and he stalked away in miserable fury, motioning his guard to remain near the prisoners.

"Ai! Legolas, why must you incite than man to anger? He is to be our judge in this case," scolded Aragorn, sitting beside his friend and digging into the food. He was famished and began wolfing down the meat with barely a bite to soften it up.

"He is so pompous," sneered Legolas. "Sheriff of the East Wold. Pah! He is nothing and will be gone from this earth before I see another fifty years."

"I, too, must leave this world some day," Aragorn reminded gravely and watched the ellon's face fall in embarrassment.

"Gohennach nín," (Forgive me) he said quietly. "I hardly think of you as one of them. You are more like an Elf in mind and heart."

"What a thing to say," Aragorn was again nonplussed. "How can you know my mind and heart, Legolas? Is this the result of sharing light?"

"It is," Legolas replied and then stopped himself, afraid to reveal more until he had time to unravel Kalrô's mysterious resistance to intimacy with him. They chewed in silence for a time.

"I need to know as much detail about this alleged ambush as you can give," Aragorn said, deciding not to press for more information about the effects of giving and receiving soul-light. Not only was Legolas clearly uncomfortable talking about it, he was himself apprehensive over the depth to which he felt the bond between them. It was not honourable to encourage strong feeling in the First-born for the Second, since death must eventually part them and grief was deadly for elves. What would that horror be like, living forever as spirit in the Halls of Mandos, consumed in sorrow that could never be alleviated since humans left Arda forever, never to be reborn?

No Elf should suffer such a fate, especially not this one.

The memory of the dream returned and Aragorn scrutinised his companion covertly. Legolas was magnificent, not only to gaze upon but to know. He was true-hearted and noble, wild and free, proud and strong. He deserved to love and be loved eternally by one of his own people. We will remain friends, a fitting enough bond between Man and Elf. Thinking this, sorrow filled Aragorn's heart and he sighed heavily even as he resolved to hide his interest so as not to nourish the bond. How he could imagine that any Elf would fail to notice such a response is testament to the power of denial.

"What is it?" Legolas inquired gently, hoping for a means to broach the subject looming between them.

"Nothing," the Man said quickly, presenting a grimace. "Or rather, I am worried about the means to prove your words to these people."

"It will not be possible," Legolas answered in gloomy malaise. "I will not permit them to sell me to Dol Guldur," he added.

"No more will I!" exclaimed Aragorn and reached to take a firm hold of his friend's shoulder. "I meant it when I said I would defend you against them, even to the death."

"It may come to that," warned Legolas. "Why should they admit wrong-doing when they can simply kill us and be done with it?"

"If that is what they wished to do, Selwyn would have ordered it already."

"Which is why I fear we are meant for the pits of the Black Tower." Legolas shuddered and lost all appetite, tossing his hunk of cheese back into the Man's bundle. "I will not go back there."

"So you were imprisoned by the Wraiths," Aragorn nodded solemnly and answered the ellon's surprised expression. "I saw bruising on you back."

"Ah."

That was all Legolas said, but he said it in a way that conveyed the beatings were the least of the torments he'd known. Aragorn discovered he was unwilling to query further, feeling strongly that what had been done to his friend was unspeakably horrendous and he couldn't bear to hear about it.

He was still picking at the food when Selwyn returned, forewarned again by Legolas' keen ears, and the Sheriff sat cross-legged beside them. Avoiding the Elf's gaze, he spoke to Thorongil.

"I see no reason to get into another shouting contest," he began. "As it stands, the story is impossible to verify either way. I have questioned my people and none of them spoke directly to either Bjorn or Ari. Everything they believe is based on tales told from those who were not there and do not know. We must seek these only witnesses and hear their words first-hand."

"What say you?" demanded Legolas, uncertain whether this was an omen of good or ill. "Where are these men? I will not go to your city of gold upon the hill."

"You will go where we say," countered Selwyn, surprised by Legolas' reluctance to journey to Meduseld. Perhaps his fears were unfounded after all. "Yet, they do not live near the Golden Hall of the King. We must ride three days south and west to find the holdings of these brothers. Can you control your friend?" He spoke only to Thorongil but involuntarily shrank back when the Wood Elf leapt to his feet, radiating furious outrage.

"Control? Control? You talk as though I am already a slave. I tell you now; that shall never be!" Legolas was shouting, blue eyes sparking with rage and what was undoubtedly fear. Aragorn's hand again steadied him, both men having risen in an instant, and he grew quiet, trembling in the effort to overrule the instinct to flee.

"He does not mean to say you are under my command," Aragorn reassured, shooting Selwyn a pointed look. The Sheriff took the hint.

"Indeed I did not," he said, heart hammering, fully conscious of Thorongil's warning about the Elf's superior strength and skill, and dared a glimpse of the seething sylvan. Once more he was astounded, this time to note the unmistakable cast of fright in the huge indigo eyes. Selwyn blinked. The Elf was afraid of him? Legolas' demeanour reminded him of his original assessment: someone in a dangerous situation, a victim of ill-deeds done by a vile Man. "I was being spiteful and such is beneath my dignity. You are a prisoner, but only until the truth of this tale can be determined. Then you may in fact be in peril, but I pledge your safety with my own life until that be known."

This was faint comfort for Legolas but he trusted Aragorn and met the Man's eyes. Truthfully, he had arrived at the same conclusion Selwyn stated, but the suggestion of enslavement terrified him so that he could not simply say he wished to question the 'survivors' of the elvish raid himself. Instead he drew closer to Aragorn and gripped his arm tight.

"I will go with you beside me, Kalrô," he said, calmer now, and actually managed a smile when Aragorn nodded assent and squeezed back.

"So be it," said Selwyn. "Prepare yourselves and break down the tent. We ride when the sun tops Fangorn." He left them, mulling over the Elf's reaction, more disturbed than ever.

Man and Elf faced one another grimly and Legolas sighed, moving to lean against Aragorn without even thinking about it, needing the comfort of closeness. The hand that rose to rub his back soothed him mightily and he relaxed, letting his head come to rest on the Man's broad shoulder.

"Sometimes," whispered Legolas, "I wish Mithrandir hadn't found me."

TBC

NOTE: Is everyone suitably confused about Aragorn's dream and Selwyn's lustful leering? Could the charge of enchantment possibly be true? Believe it or not, things are about to become clearer. Thanks to everyone reading and especially those sending me great feedback. You folks are the best :D

The title is taken from "What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide." which is from Shakespeare's Henry VI, part 3, Act IV, Scene III
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To Resist both Wind and Tide